


still devotion

by tootsonnewts



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Galra! Keith, M/M, generous size difference, gratuitous descriptions of what they're working with, griffin! shiro, porn with a fair smattering of lore, soulmate references, they're literally just banging in a cave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 20:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18645841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts
Summary: For decades, the Marmorans have sent their greatest warriors to this cave to retrieve their name's right: a luxite blade belonging to their ancestors. Upon the warrior's day of ascent, they are sent to the cave to face whatever great trial the magic guarding it sets forth. Most recently, this magic has taken the form of a great griffin, sighted occasionally by Keith's people as it makes its way in and out under the cover of darkness.keith goes on a quest in search of his ancient right and finds something greater along the way.





	still devotion

**Author's Note:**

> it's my two-year anniversary here on the archive!  
> to celebrate, i wanted to write something fun and ridiculous with some good monster flavor, so here we are!
> 
> i'd like to give a huge shout out to [neuro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAcePaladin/pseuds/ThatAcePaladin), who allowed me to storm her inbox while i worked out what details i wanted to throw into this silly little thing.
> 
> i really hope you enjoy it!

The lair of the griffin lays hidden and unkempt at the base of Mount Voltron, camouflaged by tangled vines and the crumbling of ancient rock. Nonetheless, it is a location Keith knows well, long since trained by his people to find the mouth of the cave hiding his clan’s greatest resource and largest secret.

For decades, the Marmorans have sent their greatest warriors to this cave to retrieve their name's right: a luxite blade belonging to their ancestors. Upon the warrior's day of ascent, they are sent to the cave to face whatever great trial the magic guarding it sets forth. Most recently, this magic has taken the form of a great griffin, sighted occasionally by Keith's people as it makes its way in and out under the cover of darkness.

Keith breathes in deeply, his lungs filing with the dense forest air. He can taste the fauna, the rotting leaves carpeting the ground, the fungal spores of the mushrooms growing from long-fallen logs. His nostrils feel stuffed thick with the enriched oxygen, almost luxurious in its texture. He shakes out his limbs and tugs his mask up over his nose. The sun will reach its peak soon. He has no time to waste.

The vines fall easily enough beneath his ceremonial glass blade. He hopes he won't have use for it inside the cave, but if the stories are to be trusted, a griffin is incredibly unpredictable and nigh impatient. Keith's grip tightens around the handle of his blade. Not that a decorative knife would really do much to protect him from a very messy death. Still, the thought of it is comforting.

He slips in quickly and quietly, angling his body lithely around several large boulders that block the sun's light from filtering inside.

The cave is damp and dripping, the tang of dissolving minerals heavy in the chilly the air. The scent is slightly different from everyday decay, however. There is an edge to it, wafting with a slight warmth as though belonging to a living thing. Each pulse of the scent moves over him in waves, like the breathing of the earth itself. Keith moves slowly through the entry, narrow and dark and impossibly long. It seems to go on forever as he walks for several minutes until finally stepping carefully into a colossal inner chamber. It’s larger than even any palace Keith has ever seen, lit softly by flickering torches set into the walls.

The dancing light of the flames reflects from mountains of treasure gathered in the center of the room. The piles are a hoard that would set any dragon's to shame — full of gold and jewels, relics and weapons long since gone out of style. It’s all a veritable record of time past as Keith allows his eyes to drag over each heap’s surface. 

Just as he glances over several interesting bronze goblets, he sees it. There, along the back wall of the room, a collection of blades sunk deep into the stone. Keith gasps, staggering forward to regard the collection amassed before him. They're all unique, individual pieces crafted by the very first Blades themselves to be passed along the generations. One dagger in particular — a gleaming, jagged thing comprised of sharp angles and a simple hilt — calls out to him, singing to the resonance of his very lifeblood.

Keith takes reverent steps forward, hand outstretched to claim his prize. The tips of his fingers brush the fabric bound hilt, throwing electricity up his arm, into the very core of him.

“Surely you did not think it would be this easy, little one?” 

The voice is a rumble of thunder in the night. It speaks with authority, a finality weighing each syllable down. Keith withdraws his hand, tightening his grip on his glass blade. An odd sensation crawls up his spine, like that of a friend vying for his attention. 

“Come now, there will be no need for that. I'm quite certain we can come to a fair agreement. You can fulfill your quest, so long as you give me something I would like in return.”

Keith's voice is a croak from several days of misuse. “And what is it you would like, precisely?”

He quirks an eyebrow, crossing his shaking arms as dismissively as possible as he turns to face the creature at his back. 

Keith gasps. Tales do the creature no justice. He's a hulking, beastly form, although regal in stature. His massive, grey feathered torso and dappled wings barely distract from the lion's body upon which they sit. Just above his beak, his face is marred by an old wound, long scarred over with jagged, gnarled skin. His front right leg is hacked off at the shoulder, replaced by a wooden carved limb. It's clearly enchanted, carved perfectly to fit his form and moving just as fluidly as the rest of him.

“Curious?”

Keith snaps his eyes back up. The griffin shakes out his wings, tucking them behind his shoulder blades as he steps forward, pushing further into Keith's space. He emanates...something. A feeling beyond the physical. It stirs within Keith, scrambling his guts with a fluttering sensation. His skin tingles under the griffin’s heavy gaze. A fresh wave of the unearthly mineral scent hits him dead in the face, filling his nostrils and sending him slightly dizzy. His mouth flaps uselessly for a beat, buying him time to collect himself. He glances at the wooden leg again.

The griffin rumbles a low, considering sound as Keith straightens himself and pushes his shoulders back.

“I'm-”

“I know who you are, Keith of Marmora. The kingdom of Galra is not the only one with eyes on you.”

The griffin circles Keith, so much like a predator eyeing its next meal of weak flesh and bone. His wooden leg wears furrows into the ground, deep and deadly with the force of his step. Keith watches his massive paws as he goes, each footfall deliberately placed. He’s toying with Keith. This, Keith knows with certainty. Although for why, he remains uncertain.

“Stories of you are told far and wide. Many have reached my ears. Tell me, why would the great Galran warrior Keith Kogane, son of weapons master Krolia and beloved of Prince Lotor—” Keith doesn't strangle the scoff that passes his lips. Lotor is hardly his beloved, no matter how much the man might wish to try. The griffin raises a brow. He presses forward, lowering his head to Keith's level. “Why would the legendary Galran knight not already have his own blade? You are far beyond the age of ascent.”

“Not all Galran follow the old ways,” Keith mutters, insulted. It’s none of the griffin’s business why Keith should wait for his ascent. Although, his mind defies his wish to remain silent in the face of the griffin’s questioning. Something about the creature tugs at him. It pulls his honesty from within, very nearly unwillingly.

The griffin’s eyes are clear and bright, the color of slate after a summer storm, as he hovers ever closer. His breath blows hot on Keith's skin. It tingles where it touches, an inexplicable feeling of relief and desire. Keith closes his eyes against it and sucks in a breath of his own. He’s unsure of what is happening here, but he has to remain calm if he’s to ever find out.

The griffin chuckles and the heat disappears as he backs away to a respectable distance. 

“You are an interesting creature, Keith Kogane.”

Keith tugs his mask down to his neck. “And you speak like my grandmother, sir.”

The corners of the griffin's eyes crinkle as he laughs in full. The belly-deep sound resonates through the cave, shaking the walls. Dust rains down on Keith's head. It coats his braid and eyelashes, and a bit lands on his nose. He sneezes, although he tries very much not to.

The griffin smirks. 

“Just like a Galran. You sneeze like a kitten. A great, purple kitten.”

Keith huffs with indignance as he wipes his nose and puffs out his chest. “I am no kitten.”

“I can see that very well.” The drag of the griffin's stare turns hot along Keith's body, barely hidden beneath his mission suit. “You may call me Shiro, kitten.”

The griffin turns from him then, wandering off through the room, phasing through the nearest pile of treasure as though it were nothing at all.

“And if you would still like that dagger once we have finished, then it will be yours. Now, come. Sit with me. We have much to discuss.”

Keith grumbles to himself, trailing along in Shiro's wake.  _ Shiro. What kind of name for a griffin is Shiro, anyway? _

“I'm sure you've heard talk of me, then?” Shiro asks, easy as you please, as he lowers himself to a clearing on the ground and crosses his great front paws.

“Of course I have,” Keith says. “Who hasn't? A griffin the size of the greatest beast arrives mere weeks before my questing day to take our storied cave. People talk.”

“Yes,  _ people  _ talk. You, Keith Kogane, are not people.”

“Neither are you. And you can stop wielding my name like a weapon. We are not fae.”

“Perhaps not, but you are surely as wild as one. Keith of Clan Marmora, avenging warrior, fierce friend, loyal protector of his highness Prince Daibazaal. I do have thoughts on that last title, of course.”

Keith rolls his eyes.

“That would make the both of us, then.”

Shiro laughs again, and now Keith admits to himself that he quite likes it. It's warm and rich, a mirthful sound that wraps him up like a blanket of the finest wool. He feels comforted in it, calmed by its reverberation.

“What's your story then, Shiro of Clan Ruin-Keith’s-Quest? I can't say as I've heard much about you aside from the fact that you exist.”

“Ah,” Shiro says, uncrossing his paws only to recross them the other way. “Let's just say I am on a quest of my own.”

Shiro speaks as if he’s telling riddles. Keith doesn't know if griffins are related to sphinxes, but he certainly doesn't have the patience to find out. His skin is hot and itchy beneath his bodysuit, his neck pricking as if being watched from a dark corner. The sensation crests to a near constant buzzing and Keith fidgets in place, a move that Shiro does not miss, if the narrowing of his eyes is any indication.

“I have a friend,” Shiro says quietly, shuffling himself forward on his belly. “A seer.”

Keith’s eyebrows raise at that. Seers were thought to have died out long ago, thousands of years at least.  _ Tens _ of thousands.

“And are you looking for them? Because that would be fairly ironic, don't you think? Searching for a seer.”

Shiro snorts. “She sent me here. Said I would find what I'm desperately missing. What I’m searching for.”

“And what are you searching for?” Keith leans forward.

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “What indeed.”

They stare at each other in silence, Keith wondering after what Shiro seems to be considering. Eventually, Shiro settles. He shakes out his wings once more and inches ever closer to Keith. A constant warmth emanates from his body, curling itself around Keith and drawing him ever closer.

“May I ask you something, Keith?”

“Why not? I'm essentially a captive audience.”

Now it’s Shiro’s turn to look insulted. “You are not. I would never hold you against your will.”

As of yet, Keith hasn’t found any evidence to the contrary. Something tells him he can trust this particular griffin, but he’d rather not admit that just yet. Instead, he clears his throat.

“What's the question?”

Shiro blinks slowly, lowering his head to whisper, “Do you ever yearn for more?”

“What?”

“Do you ever dream of things you've never seen, but you  _ know  _ intimately?”

Keith can't answer. He's shaking now. Shiro is inching ever closer, sniffing the air around him. Keith's body turns hotter still. He’s never told anyone of the dreams. Not even his mother. What would he even say?  _ Hello, dearest mother who reared me to believe in the tangible. Sweetest mother who taught me to fight and build. Could we, mayhaps, discuss these dreams in which I fly over trees and lay among flowers? They feel so real, mother. Please don’t look at me like that, mother. _

“What do you know of essence mates, Keith?”

Keith's blood turns to ice in his veins. He's heard of them, of course. They're a pack of lies and deceit. Tales spun by lonely folk who need convincing of a greater love out there for them. Keith knows better. Keith has  _ seen  _ better.

“Do you know that you have dreams, Keith? Dreams of the things that matter most to them? To your mate?”

_ Swooping low over the tops of pines. Warming his back under the midday sun among a field of poppies. Scooping salmon from a stream in spawning season.  _

A lion's paw rests heavily across Keith's lap. His body pulses, a low ember sparking inside him at the touch.

“Did you know that I could describe with perfect precision your home? Your family? Your favorite hiding places amongst the rocks and hills?”

Keith knows. He knows because he's seen things, too. Shiro's community, his homeland, his loneliness. 

Shiro presses his beak to Keith's shoulder, nosing aside the fabric to pluck at the fur of his shoulder. 

“Did you know I could pick you out immediately? I saw you when I arrived to this land. You shine. You're a brilliant thing among this kingdom. A gem.”

A tongue flicks out to lap at Keith's oil gland. 

“I could smell you outside. You smell like flowers and lightning.”

Keith shudders, recalling the wave of minerality that overtook him the moment he stepped foot in this cave. It blankets him now, heavier than before.

“You smell like petrichor.”

Shiro rumbles a sound, very near to a purr. “You are my essence mate, Keith. I can feel it. My skin crawls with it, my muscles quiver, my heart races to meet yours. I know you can, too. That is why I'm here. I came to find you.”

“And?” Keith whispers. Their heads have leaned ever closer, nearly touching. Shiro traces the shape of Keith's ears with his eyes. His lion’s tail lazily winds through the air behind him as though waiting for permission to reach out and touch. “Now that you've found me?”

“I'd very much like to bond you. If you would have me.”

“Bond me?”

Shiro beak clacks next to Keith's ear, his long tail flicking forward to wrap around Keith’s ankle. Keith sucks in a harsh breath, his body retaliating before his mind can form words.

“I think,” Shiro says, crawling further forward and crouching over Keith's body. He gently bears down upon Keith as he continues, “you know to what I refer.”

Something heavy and hard presses into Keith's belly. He looks down and groans at the sight. Shiro's cock is hard, unsheathed from his body and at full attention, impossibly large. The tapered head of it drips onto Keith, thick drops of pre-cum that pool along the water-resistant fabric of his suit. His own cock stirs, pushing uncomfortably against its confines. He can feel himself growing slick, thick moisture gathering at the seat of his pants. Shiro's massive hips grind down against Keith’s, tiny in comparison. The lion's body engulfs Keith, covering his narrow Galran frame in heat and sleek fur.

“I can smell you,” Shiro groans, his beak sifting through the hair at Keith's crown. “You smell like sugared leaves. Sweet with an edge.”

Keith's body pulses beneath the creature poised above him. Keith doesn't know him. He's never met him. But he  _ knows _ him. Keith's blood sings for the griffin watching him with heated eyes full of fondness and dedication.

Keith breathes in deeply through his nostrils, filtering out everything but the scent of Shiro on the back of his tongue. It's just as heady as before, the same mineral earthiness. Now, however. Now it has a peculiar tang. A tang like that of steel. Of iron. Of blood. 

“You smell like power.”

Shiro roars, sharp talons extending from both flesh and wooden paws. He tears through Keith's bodysuit recklessly, releasing his skin from its protection. Keith shivers, not from cold, but from the raw, animalistic energy Shiro exudes in that moment. 

Shiro eyes Keith's body, his pale violet fur, his long lean muscles, his spiraled and noduled cock on full display, both shafts of it standing proud before him. Keith's wetness drops between his legs, waves of slick pouring from his ass in a way it hasn't since his second puberty. Shiro leans ever closer, closing his eyes and breathing Keith in, scenting him.

“I understand the Galra have a tradition of marking the ones they love. It seems a possessive sort of symbol, am I correct?”

Shiro's tail traces the contours of Keith's body as he speaks, wrapping itself around limbs of all kinds, caressing musculature and bare skin.

“Yes and no,” Keith answers. Shiro leans forward to listen as he speaks, but it's horribly distracting. His jaw is so strong, his beak is so powerful. His wings flutter as he listens raptly, watching the movement of Keith’s lips. “It's a symbol of devotion. Yes, I suppose you could call it possession, but the Galra see it as...well, it's like taking that devotion and proving it by allowing your partner to physically change you to match the way they have emotionally.”

“I see,” Shiro hums. “And do you agree with that thought?”

“I...have opinions.”

“That does not sound like a yes.” Shiro's voice is thoughtful, contemplative, nearly clinical. It contrasts greatly with the way his forked tongue flicks out over his lower jaw, playing at one of Keith's nipples. His saliva is cool to the touch, pebbling Keith's flesh beneath it. Keith keens and squirms beneath Shiro's haunches. Shiro ignores it, although his cock bobs in interest between them. “Do tell me your opinions.”

His tongue flicks, playing with Keith's nipple like a toy. Keith whines, body bursting into flame at Shiro’s touch, but continues as requested. “I think that devotion needs no proof. It is either  _ ah—! _ ” Shiro's attention switches to Keith's other nipple. “It is either there or not there. No mark changes that.”

Shiro hums, pressing his hips down into Keith. His cock is huge and thick, bigger than anything Keith has ever taken in his life. It rubs along the surface of Keith's own, fat and dripping. Keith moans and presses his face into the feathers of Shiro's neck.

Shiro presses forward, rutting their cocks together slowly. Keith's responding groan is loud, the delicious friction whipping his blood into a frenzy.

“I must say,” Shiro pants above him. “I do agree with you there. For instance _ — _ ” Shiro draws back, using his back paws to spread Keith's legs and press his knees up _ — _ “I flew for months to find you.” He draws his hips back and lines up with Keith, the thin, tapered head of his dick prodding at Keith's fluttering hole. “That is not a physical mark, but  _ this—”  _ Shiro thrusts forward, spearing Keith on his cock in one swift, smooth motion. Keith cries out, scrabbling his hands along Shiro's wide forelegs. His claws extend from his fingers with the sudden rush of pleasure, scratching wildly through thick fur and barky wood. His eyes roll back as Shiro sets a deep, rolling pace. “This, little one, is still devotion.”

Keith groans aloud as Shiro shifts his hips just so, nudging Keith up from the ground enough to prod him perfectly along his inner walls. Keith squirms and pants, mouth dropping open in a silent shout as Shiro nails his prostate dead on. His tongue lolls out with each perfect thrust of Shiro’s hips.

“Do you not agree, kitten?” Shiro murmurs on well-timed thrusts. “Am I not proven worthy of you?”

The lion body presses down, shoving Keith’s back down on the ground, leaving him at the mercy of Shiro’s whims. He’s so small beneath him, his legs barely wrapping around Shiro’s waist and his shoulders barely reaching Shiro’s front haunches. Each slap of their bodies is soothing in a way, physically pressing Shiro’s intent into Keith.

“I think,” Keith stutters, pausing on a particularly hard press of Shiro’s head inside of him, “I think it’s a good start.”

Shiro pauses in his rhythm, and before Keith can stop to regret his words, Shiro’s belly is quivering with fond laughter. He pulls out and stands, proud cock dripping Keith’s own slick onto the ground as he retreats. He rests a heavy paw at Keith’s side and leans down to lick at Keith’s neck.

“I think I like you very much, Keith Kogane.”

Shiro flips Keith over and presses his shoulders into the dirt with his chest as he realigns himself and thrusts into Keith with renewed vigor. Keith cries out, the show of strength sending him impossibly aroused. Shiro fucks into Keith for all he’s worth with hard pounding thrusts until his hips stutter in their rhythm.

“I may not mark you, kitten,” he groans, “but I can give you this.”

Keith’s eyes flutter shut as he finds himself flooded with warmth. It fills him ceaselessly, pulse after pulse of it flowing until a new sensation hits him suddenly. A scratching sort of feeling, deep inside his gut. It’s like a hook, catching at his prostate and burying deep in his walls. It should hurt, that much he knows logically. Instead, it sends him yowling, splattering the ground beneath him in great splashes of white.

“What _ — _ What the  _ fuck. _ ”

Shiro chuckles, nuzzling his beak into the back of Keith’s neck. “You are not the only one with unusual anatomy, dearest. I am part lion, after all.”

Lion.  _ Lion.  _ Lions are big cats. And cats have barbs.

Perhaps Keith should have considered that before allowing his hormones to dictate his actions.

“You don’t need to worry. Mine isn’t designed in the typical way. It will soften soon.” Shiro reassures. “Until then, we will simply remain close.”

Keith snorts. Cockwarming a half-lion half-eagle hybrid seems a little more complicated than simply remaining close. Then again, many strange things have happened in his life. This would hardly be the strangest.

They pass the time in talking, learning about their youths and daily lives. They discuss more mundane details as well, like their favorite foods and times of the year. Keith waves his hands excitedly as he describes the yearly yalmore hunt the warriors of his tribe takes every year. Shiro watches him fondly, sharing tales of protecting villages from bandits in return.

Eventually, Shiro shifts and finds himself able to move away from Keith without causing injury. As he pulls away, waves of his release gush from Keith’s body, coating him anew in sticky pulses.

“It would seem that you need some cleaning, beloved.”

Keith scoffs. “Some seems like a fair understatement, Shiro.”

He looks over his shoulder at Shiro, cocking an eyebrow as seed drips from his body to the floor of the cave. Shiro smirks back at him, backing away.

“So it would seem.”

Shiro lowers his chest to the ground behind Keith, and snakes his long tongue from his beak. It’s slow, telegraphing his intent, and Keith has never wanted anything more in his life. He nods his head in agreement, and Shiro clacks his beak, twittering an excited sort of noise in response before diving face first into Keith’s spread ass.

His tongue is rougher than Keith anticipated, although much more dexterous. It plunges directly into him, carefully working itself into his abused body. Keith moans and drools, dropping his forehead to the ground as it roots around inside him, gathering up every last bit of the load Shiro deposited inside. Each press deeper stirs Keith’s arousal back to life. His cock stiffens and coils tighter, both shafts bobbing between his legs with neglect.

Shiro finishes his task, emerging from between Keith’s legs licking the edges of his beak smugly. Keith rolls over into the dirt, throwing an arm over his eyes as he pants, jaggedly attempting to regain his breath. He feels rolling waves of heat pour over him as Shiro lowers himself once more over Keith’s body.

“You don’t think I’m done with you already, do you?

Keith drops his arm to his side just in time to see Shiro look back over his shoulder, watching with extreme focus as his tail lifts, coaxing Shiro’s cock back out from its sheath and to full attention. Once he’s happy with his progress, Shiro looks back to Keith with more intensity than he has thus far.

“May I bond with you, Keith?”

The question is asked in perfect seriousness. The cave around them is completely silent, no sound to break their tension. Keith scans Shiro’s face for several long seconds, searching for any hint that he may not truly want this. Any sign that Keith may end up hurt at the end. 

He finds none.

Keith smiles, reaching up to stroke the plush feathers on the side of Shiro’s face.

“We barely know each other.”

“You and I both know that to be untrue.”

_ Weaving joyfully between fluffy afternoon clouds. Patiently enduring the chatter of several mice as they weave around the pads of his feet, cleaning between his nails. Closing his eyes and breathing in the wind as it blows in from the sea. _

Keith has no words for his certainty. He simply knows this to be his destiny. He doesn’t know where it will take him, but perhaps that is half of the adventure. 

He takes a deep breath before taking the plunge.

“We do.”

Shiro rumbles an excited chuff and rubs his face along Keith’s cheeks. He rears back, staring into Keith’s eyes as his tail reaches up between them, parting the shafts of Keith’s cock to slip his own between them. His tail wraps them together as he thrusts against Keith.

He goes slowly at first, trying his best to be romantic, Keith can tell. Keith snorts in his face.

“C’mon, big boy. I know this isn’t how you want it. Am I correct?” Shiro keens and nods frantically. His hips buck in time with his head. Keith goes dizzy with it, groaning and throwing his head back against the ground. “Then do it right.”

Shiro rears back, sitting upright on his back haunches. He folds Keith nearly in half this way, settling his ass against Shiro legs as he fucks himself against Keith’s stomach anew. At this angle, it presses Shiro’s long shaft all along the curve of Keith’s abdomen, the tip just hitting Keith’s chin on each upward stroke.

Keith smirks up at Shiro through his lashes and leans forward, parting his lips and sucking the end of Shiro’s cock into his mouth. Shiro moans loud and long, renewing his efforts in double time. He thrusts harshly into Keith’th mouth as they move together, driving both closer and closer to the edge of release.

Keith’s orgasm slams into him suddenly, overtaking him in blinding waves as he comes between them, painting them both in pearlescent green. Shiro rears back at the sight, splattering Keith in his own release. Their seed mixes on Keith’s skin, a mingling of green and white rolling along his skin in hot, sticky rivers.

Shiro sets Keith down gently, reaching down to swipe his paw over their mingling fluids. Keith shudders, goosebumps raising along his skin as Shiro licks each pad of his paw clean. He finishes with great aplomb and repeats the action, this time offering his paw up for Keith to taste.

Their shared release hits Keith’s tongue, and immediately his senses flare. His skin bursts into cold tingles. His vision whites out. He can hear every sound around them, feel every atom of the air. There, along the molecules dancing, he can feel a particular thread of life. He reaches out to it with his thoughts, grasping it tightly and tugging. It tugs back, pulling tighter and tighter until finally, the thread snaps taut.

It’s thick and violet in his mind’s eye. The thread holds fast and true, singing with their shared emotion. It should be odd, nonsensical to feel someone else in all their essence inside of him, but Keith latches on and embraces the sensation immediately. Shiro’s resolve and unending dedication flows down the shared thread in a constant stream. It hits Keith right in the center of his soul, resonating and sending his heart all a flutter like an excited kit. He returns Shiro’s feelings, responding with hope and a reverent sort of faithfulness he can’t quite describe. In an instant, all their emotions and thoughts swirl together, mingling along the surface of the thread until it glows brightly and bursts out in a shower of gold shimmer.

Keith gasps, his eyes flying open to find Shiro already looking at him. The griffin smiles.

“There you are.”

Keith smiles back.

“Here I am.”

Shiro gathers Keith close, encircling him with his great, strong body as they settle down together to rest. Just as Keith is about to drop off into sleep, Shiro clears his throat to speak.

“I meant what I said, Keith Kogane. Your blade is still in the wall. You can take it and leave at any time. I would never stop you. The choice is yours.”

Keith can feel the tension rolling off of him in waves, no matter how sincere his words. He isn’t incorrect, of course. Keith could very well take his weapon and leave, never turning back. It wouldn’t be necessary. They’re bound together now and will always be able to find each other again if they so chose.

Still, Keith entered this affair just as willingly as Shiro. He needs to make a point of his commitment. Keith never breaks a promise.

So he gathers himself together and stands on barely shaking knees, striding smoothly to the back of the cave naked as the day he was born. He plucks his blade easily from the wall, feeling its resonance as they finally connect. He turns back to Shiro, walking straight back to him and dropping once more into the circle of his body. He deposits the blade on the ground next to the tattered remains of his mission suit.

“I want that blade. It’s what I came here for.”

A wave of disappointment slams into him full force. It very nearly knocks the breath out of him. Still, he pauses for dramatic effect. He needs to be understood.

“But you should understand that I have been told from the day of my birth that that blade is my destiny. Just as you told me that  _ you  _ are my destiny.”

Keith leans forward, running his hands along Shiro’s forearms.

“But I create my own destiny, no matter what I’m told.”

Shiro’s eyes widen in dawning realization.

“I choose the blade. But I also choose you. I can take both. They’re not exclusive.”

Shiro chuffs and draws Keith in tighter to his body, curling his tail around Keith’s thigh.

“Besides,” Keith says offhandedly, relaxing in the cradle of his new mate’s body, “we still need to get to know each other.” He reaches out again, running a single finger up the length of Shiro’s tail. “We can start with this in a little while. I need a nap first.”

Shiro laughs loud and settles his head on the ground by Keith’s shoulder. The bond thrums with contentment.

**Author's Note:**

> please feel free to yell at me for doing this over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_tootsonnewts)


End file.
